


the thing with feathers

by n-x-northwest (wendy_bird)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, One Shot, Post-Canon, classical gay refs galore, emotional switching, everybody has a lovely time, extremely self-indulgent nonsense, swan lake stuff, they switch but like emotionally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 12:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14694531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendy_bird/pseuds/n-x-northwest
Summary: In retrospect, Viktor should have seen this coming. When it comes to Yuuri Katsuki, however, Viktor has always had a bit of a blind spot.





	the thing with feathers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cafecliche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafecliche/gifts), [kevystel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kevystel/gifts).



> I originally wrote this is a birthday gift for the wonderful cafecliche (HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEE <3), but it was a really lovely excuse to finally put some very self-indulgent headcanons to paper. Also, none of this would exist without the very excellent kevystel, who has been kind enough to let me yell at her about these boys for the past year. <3
> 
> Title comes from the Emily Dickinson poem "'Hope' Is the Thing With Feathers," first verse: 
> 
> “Hope” is the thing with feathers  
> That perches in the soul -  
> And sings the tune without the words -  
> And never stops - at all -

It’s a good evening.

Dinner has been made and eaten, Makkachin walked, and a few dishes are all that stand between them and sinking into the warm quiet of the evening. Spring has yet to give way to the long, lingering days of summer, and the dusky evening light stretches her fingers through the windows of their apartment.

Yuuri lost that night’s game of _janken_ for dish duty, but all it took was a single, doe-eyed look from under his lashes and Viktor crumbled faster than a house of cards in a light breeze.

So here they are, Viktor rinsing and Yuuri drying. As he dries, Yuuri gleefully goes on about whatever spot of trouble Yurio landed himself in with Lilia during training, while Viktor listens and laughs. A [ lilting nocturne ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0amWIMsry39cBZ50lm0b32) winds its way out from the speaker on the table, filling the kitchen with an easy warmth.

For a moment Viktor is lost in thought of a time not so long ago when there was no one to do the dishes with, no after-dinner music, and the only sounds filling the empty rooms were lonely chatter and late-night confessions to his dog.

The evening light wraps itself around Yuuri’s frame, settling on his shoulders and crowning him in gold. The color suits Yuuri far, far better than it ever has Viktor. His heart thrums to life in his chest, drumming a steady beat in his ears.

Blissfully unaware of Viktor’s rapidly increasing heart rate, Yuuri turns towards him to reach for the next dish. His smile is free and easy, his face awash in contentment. Viktor’s hands slow to a stop under the faucet. The flickering thing in his chest swells into a steady ache. He wants to bottle that bright laugh, that carefree face. He wants wrap up the image in paper and string and tuck it away for safekeeping. He wants —

A sharp _snap_  breaks his reverie, followed by the sting of a wet dish towel hitting his thigh.

“Ow!” whines Viktor.

“Vitya! You’re too slow!” Yuuri chirps.

“I am not!” Viktor protests.

“Then hurry up and pass me the bowl,” Yuuri sighs fondly, hand extended.

Viktor looks down at the forgotten dish. It’s not nearly so nice to look at as Yuuri. Suddenly sheepish, he passes it over. Yuuri wipes it dry and casually stretches to his tiptoes to put it away. His shirt teases up his hips, showing off all the efforts of his hard work this season. Viktor’s hands twitch towards him, but he manages to pull his fingers back at the very last second. Yuuri’s gaze drifts downwards, knowing, and for the second time that evening Viktor’s traitorous heart threatens to jump right out of his chest and lay itself bare.

Yuuri’s eyes flick upwards. “If you’re not careful Vitya,” he says, lips quirking, “Someone might think you need something better to do with your hands.”

“Oh,” Viktor whispers. A faint blush paints his cheeks. “Well, um, you know.”

Yuuri sidles up next to him at the sink. “No, I really don’t.” He turns to meet Viktor’s face, already grinning. “How about you tell me?”

Viktor opens his mouth in a half-hearted attempt at an answer but the words won’t come. A heated beat of silence stands between them before the music interrupts with [ a playful tango ](https://open.spotify.com/track/0C2VBTRjLyFAOdAmgXNBIu).

Yuuri strikes. He loops the dish towel around Viktor’s waist, pressing their hips together. Viktor knows that with a little effort he could pull himself free, but he finds he doesn’t want to. He’d rather sink down into this, into the reassuring warmth of _them_. He dares himself to look up and just like that, he’s hopelessly lost in the playful glow in Yuuri’s eyes, the sweetness in the curve of his lips.

In retrospect, Viktor should have seen this coming. When it comes to Yuuri Katsuki, however, Viktor has always had a bit of a blind spot. A willfully happy blind spot.

Yuuri drops the towel and takes Viktor’s hand in his, pressing the other to Viktor’s waist. He noses at Viktor’s ear. “Dance with me?”

Viktor’s reply comes as easy as breathing. “As if I could ever say no.”

He rests his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, feather-light. In return, Yuuri deliberately laces his fingers through Viktor’s and pulls him close. The hand on his waist slips up Viktor’s back, the steady press of Yuuri’s fingers pinning him to his chest. There can’t be more than an inch between them. If this is to be his cage, Viktor thinks, he’ll gladly let himself be caught.

Yuuri leads them in a smooth pass around the kitchen, Viktor pliant in his arms. They lose themselves in the music weaving around them, gliding through each push and pull. Yuuri directs Viktor into a spin, only to greedily draw him back again. A quick intake of breath, and Viktor finds himself being oh-so-gently lowered into a dip. He lets himself fall, trusting Yuuri to catch him. The smile on Viktor’s face fades and he’s all eyes, wide and round and staring.

Viktor has to remind himself, again, that he’s allowed this.

Yuuri’s returning look is filled with nothing but fondness. The color is high on his cheeks, the neck of his shirt dipping to expose his clavicle. Viktor desperately wants to kiss it. Yuuri’s fingertip brushes Viktor’s chin, tilting it just so. His thumb brushes across Viktor’s lower lip – a familiar gesture – as his eyes go dark and heavy.

Need thrills through Viktor, frizzling out the end of his fingertips. Once again, he’s powerless to look away.

With a quiet _huff_ Yuuri pulls Viktor upright, drawing him back into the frame of his embrace. He presses their foreheads together, smiling, as Viktor cups Yuuri’s face. Yuuri leans into the touch, closing his eyes against Viktor’s reverent palms. He lets Viktor ply him with kisses on the cheek, under his jaw, and a final lingering one on the mouth until he’s loose and trembling.

After that it’s not so very hard for Yuuri to give up the lead and wind his arms over Viktor’s shoulders, tucking his face into his neck. They stand like that for a long moment, swaying together in the kitchen as the music ends.

Before they can get very far, the familiar sounds of Tchaikovsky’s Black Swan  _[pas de deux](https://open.spotify.com/track/4MEMZ9rOWoorE7jySheFgD)_ burst out of the speaker on the table.

Viktor startles. “ _That’s_  new.”

Yuuri flushes bright red. “Um — Lilia had Yurio practicing to it? She said that if he was going to insist on being mischievous, he could at least learn to make it beautiful. Or enchanting. Or something. And, ah, Minako taught me the variation? So I...helped out?”

“My Yuuri,” Viktor hums. “So helpful. Is that how you learned to be so seductive?”

“ _Vitya_. No.”

“Well, you’ve certainly enchanted me.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “Please.”

For a moment Viktor indulges in the image of Yuuri draped in black feathers and sequins, velvet and mesh twining around his torso in an impression of wings. A smoky eye, sharp eyeliner, and Viktor suddenly finds he understands poor Siegfried’s dilemma much better.

“Yura?” Viktor asks, hooking his chin over Yuuri’s shoulder. “Have you ever thought of using this music for one of your programs?”

Yuuri stiffens. “No...”

Viktor’s face brightens with excitement. “Would you— “

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, bunny,” Viktor wheedles. “You would make it beautiful, just as you do everything else.”

Yuuri’s mouth twists in a soft scowl, eyes askance. Viktor waits. He knows Yuuri is thinking, but he presses a kiss to Yuuri’s neck, just in case.

Yuuri exhales slowly. “I...I can’t use it. You already did a Swan Lake program. Your senior debut?”

(Viktor’s mind flashes back to a decade-old interview of him at eighteen and fresh off the ice from his first Worlds gold. He’s in white and silver, feathers and rhinestones adorning his shoulders. A small, winged tiara complements his braided hair. A reporter had asked him about his “traditional” choice in music, praising him for “bringing a new dimension of masculinity” to the sport. Viktor sagely answered, “Well, Tchaikovsky was very gay and so am I.”)

“Of course. My great gay moment.”

“I don’t want people to think I’m just re-doing all your old stuff.”

“But Yuuuri,” Viktor coaxes, nosing at Yuuri’s throat. “Then we would match.” Unable to help himself he slips his fingers under the hem of Yuuri’s shirt, skimming over his hips.

Yuuri squawks, smacking at his hands. “You’re hands are _cold_.”

“So warm them up for me, _lapochka_ ,” Viktor says, low and teasing. He wraps an arm around Yuuri’s waist, on top of his shirt this time. Yuuri says nothing, but he gently rests his hands on top of Viktor’s.

Viktor tries again. “Will you at least think about it?”

Yuuri sighs. “I’ll think about it. But not for competition.”

They stand there for a minute more, letting the score waltz around them. Yuuri starts absentmindedly humming along, and it’s all the confirmation Viktor needs.

“Yuuri, would you let me try something?”

Yuuri eyes him warily.

“Nothing bad, I promise.” Viktor taps Yuuri’s nose. “I just had an idea for a lift I thought we could try.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, yes,” Viktor says, already turning him so his back is to Viktor’s chest. Yuuri’s arms don’t budge. 

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“You’re not _that_  much stronger than me. Besides, I’m retired,” he says, breath warm against Yuuri’s ear, “I can do whatever I want.”

Viktor slides up closer behind him and takes the partner position they so often use in practice: a forward lunge, with Yuuri in a low arabesque.

"Move your arm here," he instructs, pulling Yuuri’s left hand behind him to match his leg. Without prompting, Yuuri raises his other arm to complete the line in front.

"And here." Viktor only has to touch Yuuri’s leg and he wraps it tight around Viktor in a low  _attitude_ , the other cautiously lifting off the floor. He tentatively shifts his body into Viktor’s arms. He falls into place, neck arching gracefully to rest his head on Viktor's shoulder. His weight is solid, trusting.

"See? You already know it,” Viktor murmurs. Yuuri throws skeptical look over his shoulder as he slides back down. Viktor stares back.

“Okay,” Yuuri whispers, holding Viktor’s gaze. Viktor smiles, triumphant.

"Now, dance like you're trying to seduce me."  
  
At that, Yuuri throws his head back and laughs. The music swells and a frisson of delight thrums through Viktor’s body, leaving him weak. Yuuri is so warm, so substantial in his arms, and when he speaks his lips write incantations against his skin.

“Hold onto me?” Yuuri asks, soft. The reply slips honest and easy from Viktor’s lips.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Their lift is a combination of [this pose](http://yesarts.tumblr.com/post/151798754005/yuri-on-ice-gives-me-life-and-victor-is-a-bae) (wonderful fanart by Min E. Christensen) and [this pose.](http://www.criticaldance.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/Olga-Smirnova-and-Semyon-Chudin-in-the-Black-Swan-pas-de-deux-from-the-Bolshoi-Ballets-Swan-Lake.-Photo-%C2%A9-Stephanie-Berger.jpg)
> 
> _Lapochka_ = sweetheart.
> 
> I'm conflicted on whether or not Viktor would use a diminutive for Yuuri. Once Yuuri starts calling him Vitya there would absolutely be no going back (and lbr, Viktor would be over the moon when Yuuri finally does), but I think Yuuri might be a little more hesitant to let go of his full name. Also Viktor still calls him Yuuri at the end of the last episode. But I have no doubt Viktor has so. many. nicknames for Yuuri that he would probably sneak it in here and there until Yuuri's fully comfortable with it.
> 
> Suggested listening: [Casta Diva](https://open.spotify.com/track/5yF1plgwcdWmkXgfF42MhZ), [Chopin Nocturne No. 8](https://open.spotify.com/track/0amWIMsry39cBZ50lm0b32), [Por Una Cabeza](https://open.spotify.com/track/0C2VBTRjLyFAOdAmgXNBIu), [Black Swan pas de deux I.Intrada](https://open.spotify.com/track/4MEMZ9rOWoorE7jySheFgD) and [II. Andante.](https://open.spotify.com/track/6KrjkWdiJ4pc9ytrgN47Uk)
> 
> Find me on tumblr here.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
